


the caffeine classification system

by sheriffandsteel



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Getting Together, M/M, Meddling, Stenbrough, Texting, its like half texting fic half regular fic, well he's mentioned in a different context
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:34:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22441879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheriffandsteel/pseuds/sheriffandsteel
Summary: While working in the cafe on the same floor as the English department Stan had developed a mental chart of what people were writing based off of the drink that they ordered. He could tell you what every person in the cafe was writing at any given time, well almost. Stan knew that every experiment always had something unique, that every rule always had an exception. By the end of the first month of the semester he knew that Bill was his.
Relationships: Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Stan Uris & Richie Tozier
Comments: 32
Kudos: 227





	the caffeine classification system

**Richie:** i have gathered you all here today for a very important reason 

**Eddie:** This better not be another mom joke Tozier I stg. 

**Ben:** is this about the history test? 

**Mike:** You guys are in Mrs. Douglas’s class right? I think I still have my study guide from last semester if you want it. 

**Ben:** That would be great Mike thanks! 

**Eddie:** You’re a saint among men Mike. 

**Beverly:** shouldn’t we add Stan? he’s in our history class too. 

**Richie:** DO NOT ADD STAN 

**Richie:** OR BILL 

**Richie:** THEY ARE NOT INVITED 

**Mike:** um okay? 

**Ben:** Oh no! Are you fighting? Is there a fight? How can I help? 

**Eddie:** If there is a fight 100% Richie started it. 

**Beverly** : does this have anything to do with yesterday? 

**Richie:** there’s no fight 

**Richie:** you wound me eds 

**Eddie:** Don’t call me Eds! 

**Richie:** im talking! 

**Mike:** is that...punctuation? I didn’t know you knew how to do that Rich. 

**Beverly:** Nice. 

**Eddie:** Good one Mike. 

**Ben:** Wait, is this not about the history test? 

**Richie:** CAN EVERYONE SHUT UP FOR 5 FUCKING SECONDS???? 

**Eddie:** woah 

**Beverly:** Yikes 

**Mike:** Sure. 

**Ben:** Sorry Richie. 

**Richie:** geezus you guys 

**Richie:** i made the damn group chat and i still can’t get a word in 

**Richie:** as i was saying 

**Richie:** i have gathered you all here today for a very important reason 

The sound of several pairs of fingers clacking away on several laptop keyboards constantly filled the café like a soundtrack. It was as steadily consistent as the sound of the hiss of the milk steaming and the sharp aroma of the coffee beans. The clacking keys were as dependable as the long, ridiculously over complicated, pretentious made up drinks that were most definitely _not_ on the menu that the students in the liberal arts department were constantly demanding Stan make for them. 

Well, demanding might not have been the right word for it. It was more that they rattled off a long order and then stared at him in shock when he told them it wasn’t on the menu. They always sighed and informed him in slow drawls that said without saying it outright that he was misinformed, that Carol always made it for them. Carol had worked at the small coffee shop nestled on the second floor of the liberal arts building last semester but due to schedule changes she had been moved somewhere else for the spring. By the end of his third day Stan had been informed that she would make any drink she was asked too, always had a smile and a cheerful anecdote at the ready, and to top it all off she smelled like cinnamon. 

Having never met Carol Stan felt like he couldn’t really form a true opinion of her but still, fuck Carol. 

He never thought he would feel it but he actually missed working in the busy café in the student union. That was where he had spent all of fall semester learning the drinks actually on the menu and how to work with the temperamental espresso machine. There was constantly a steady stream of students and professors and the rare times when someone asked him to make a drink not on the menu and he said no it always ended at that. The café in the liberal arts hall, well that was a whole other beast. Here the espresso machine never fought back with him but the people ordering sure as hell did. 

“Can I get a venti soy latte extra hot with extra foam and half a pump of sugar free vanilla?” the boy ordering didn’t even have the decency to look up from his phone as he prattled off his ridiculously specific order. 

Stan rolled his eyes as he picked up a mug and bit the inside of his cheek to keep from making a comment about his drink preferences. He’d gotten a written reprimand when he’d shown up for work earlier that afternoon. Apparently, someone had already complained about his attitude. This was why he preferred birds. Birds didn’t turn on you like people did. 

He made the drink and even resisted the temptation to do a full pump of the vanilla syrup as well as the urge to charge the boy double just for making him make something so ridiculous. The asshat didn’t even say thanks as he walked away, stupid drink in hand. Stan hoped he burned his tongue on it. 

“What a d-d-dick.” 

Stan turned from where he had been glaring at the boy’s back as he settled at a table and pulled out his macbook, undoubtedly getting ready to work on his screenplay that contained no women or people of color. He shook his head a little in the hopes to clear his bitter thoughts as he turned back to the front of the register and met a shockingly bright blue pair of eyes. 

“I’m not supposed to talk bad about customers.” Stan remarked softly, tugging on the stiff collar of his button up. His coworkers at the union café always teased him for never wearing t-shirts. At least that was one upside to this café, it was much smaller so he worked alone. No one gave a shit about what he wore now but Richie and given his penchant for disastrously ugly Hawaiian shirts he didn’t have much space to talk. 

The boy in front of him considered this for a moment before smiling at Stan softly. “T-then I’ll d-d-do it f-f-for you.” 

Stan couldn’t help but smile a little at that. He loved when customers actually treated him like a human being inside of a walking caffeine machine. What he loved even more than that was customers who realized when someone else was being a dick. 

“You’d do that for me?” Stan asked deadpanned, placing his hand over his heart in a gesture he’d seen Richie do three times yesterday alone. He needed to stop spending so much time with his roommate before he picked up on any more of his habits. “I’m flattered.” 

The boy grinned at him and opened his mouth to say something else but a shout at the open door to the café drew his attention away. 

“Bill!” A shorter young man in a shockingly bright pink sweater waved his hand frantically at the boy at the counter. “We’re gonna be late!” 

Bill swore softly before turning to look back at Stan and grinning with a small shrug. “G-guess c-caffeine will have to w-wait.” 

“Guess so.” Stan said, trying and failing to not watch as he followed his friend out of the café, throwing a curious look back over his shoulder before he left the door. Stan quickly turned his eyes back to his register not sure if he should be embarrassed to have been caught staring since the other boy (Bill, Stan mouthed the name to himself after he was gone, his mouth wanting to get a feel for how it felt on his lips) was the one who looked back. 

**Richie:** as we all know stan the man has got a big bad case of the feelings 

**Eddie:** Seriously? This again? 

**Ben:** Feelings aren’t bad Richie, we all have them. 

**Beverly:** Speak for yourself. 

**Mike:** Now I see where this is going. 

The first week of the semester drifted seamlessly into the second and by the end of that week Stan knew nearly every face in the building, at least the ones that came to the café. He also knew their orders and who was going to ask him to make a drink that made him embarrassed for them even ordering it. What was wrong with plain coffee? That was the way it was originally meant to be drunk, why change something that worked? 

Since the café was nestled not just in the Liberal Arts hall, but on the English department’s floor, Stan got a feeling that there were several aspiring writers nestled at the little tables. By the end of the third week he had created a chart in his head for what people were writing based off of their drink order. 

The people who ordered herbal teas were writing poetry but the ones who ordered teas with caffeine, especially tea lattes, were aspiring novelists. Half-caf skim milk flavored latte? Screenplay. Extra foam on top? They were only writing at college instead of some little café in LA because their parents wouldn’t pay to send them to the big city but they would pay to send them here. Drip coffee was usually the students working on course assignments, typically those due in the next few days. Triple espresso ordered less than an hour before closing? The assignment was due tomorrow and they had forgotten and unless that caffeine kicked in, they were fucked. 

Sure, his little system was stereotypical and borderline rude but Stan needed something to help pass the time and classifying drinks and their drinkers seemed as good a thing as any. It wasn’t like he was going to share his chart with anyone so it wasn’t like it mattered. He could be as rude in his own head as he wanted to be (even though he sometimes felt a little guilty about it). 

Besides, Stan had gotten more than one peek at a computer screen as he cleaned up coffee mugs and wiped down tables to know that 99% of the time, his assumption on the drinker’s writing project had been correct. That helped the guilt over creating it ease immensely. 

There was just one tiny problem to his caffeine classification system, one thing that never seemed to fit into any of Stan’s neat and tidy little boxes. This oddity both confused and fascinated him and every time it happened it took over his attention for hours. 

Bill, the boy with the stutter and the nice eyes, came into the café three of the four shifts Stan worked and on each one he always ordered something different. Stan never seemed to manage to get away from the counter while Bill was in the shop so he hadn’t yet been able to steal a peek over his shoulder to see what he was writing. But even from his vantage point behind the counter Stan could see the books piled up around him and they were as varied as his drink orders. One time, Stan was pretty sure he even caught him writing poetry but judging by the pained expression on his face as he wrote Stan was willing to be that was probably for class. 

Despite the books always on his table Stan could tell that there was at least one thing Bill was writing that wasn’t for a class. He always seemed to relax when he worked on it, the heaviness between his shoulders slipping away as his fingers danced over the keyboard. As each shift passed with a different drink ordered Stan desperately wanted to know what he was writing when his back relaxed like that. It became a background obsession for him, consuming his thoughts every time Bill walked into the café. He needed to know what kind of genre his writing project was, he’d ordered tea before but Stan knew he didn’t like poetry. He didn’t seem like a screenplay kind of guy and despite his variety of orders he never went off menu (although he had teased Stan about it more than once when someone in line before him ordered something long and complicated, when they walked away he would always grin at Stan like they shared a secret joke and say “I’ll have what t-t-they're having.” before ordering what he really wanted when Stan glared at him.) No, Stan didn’t know for sure what he was writing but he had a feeling it was a story, now he just needed to figure out the genre. 

He didn’t know why Bill’s writing genre of choice was so important to him but it took over Stan’s thoughts whenever he was in the café. He told himself it was because if he made a spreadsheet of his caffeine system all of his other customers would fit neatly into the rows and columns. Bill was the outlier. Stan knew that every experiment always had something unique, that every rule always had an exception. By the end of the first month of the semester he knew that Bill was his. 

**Richie:** it has become apparent Stan has no intention to ACT on said feelings 

**Richie:** as his roommate and his closest friend I feel it is my duty to help him 

**Mike:** This seems like a bad idea. 

**Ben:** I think its sweet! What did you have in mind? 

**Beverly:** hold on a sec Ben. Rich what is Stan’s one rule? 

**Richie:** friends don’t lie 

**Beverly:** no the other one. 

**Richie:** fish are friends not food 

**Eddie:** beep beep Richie 

**Richie:** don’t meddle in his life 🙁 

**Beverly:** there you go. 

Working in a coffee shop would probably be a bit easier for Stan if he actually enjoyed the taste of coffee. As it was, he thought it tasted too bitter and sharp and when there were flavored syrups or creams added to it, he thought it was too sweet. He could never seem to find a happy medium and he just couldn’t get into the taste. Which was a pity because after some of his customers he could really use a drink to make his nerves not so frayed and exhausted. Maybe he should work in a bar instead. 

Twenty-one never looked so far away as it did on Tuesday night shifts when the screenwriters club took up the entire left corner of the café. There were eight of them, all with drinks that were more ridiculous and complicated than any cup of coffee had a right to be. Stan had just finished making all of their frothy half and half extra whipped concoctions only to be told that Carol had made them much faster than he did. Stan was glaring at them in the mirror behind the counter when he caught sight of a familiar and horrifyingly ugly Hawaiian shirt. 

“Stan baby!” Richie cried loudly, causing some of the aspiring screenwriters to look over at him with a glare for interrupting their creative process or whatever. Ugh, Stan wanted to give them the finger _so bad_. 

Richie hopped up onto the counter, letting out a squawk of indignation as Stan snapped his towel at him to make him move. “You wound me.” he’d subtly shifted into an English accent and Stan narrowed his eyes at him, he was so not in the mood for the British guy right now. 

Thankfully Beverly, who was on the other side of Richie and surveying the mostly empty pastry case, picked up on that because Stan knew Richie wouldn’t. “Beep beep Richie.” she said absentmindedly, tapping her fingers against the counter. Stan couldn’t help but marvel yet again how easy it was for her to get Richie to stop talking, he’d been friends with the guy since grade school and he only mastered that skill half the time. Beverly had known him less than seven months but the way they acted around each other it was like they’d known each other all their lives. 

Richie rolled his eyes and pouted a little as he leaned on his elbows on the counter. “What’s the word for tonight Stan the man?” 

“Tonight?” Stan’s brow furrowed before he remembered the date. There was a movie night in the union that night and Richie had been pestering him to go with him since he saw the flier last week. Stan didn’t really want to watch _Harry Potter_ with a bunch of people who were going to talk over it and not appreciate it but Beverly had managed to scrounge them up cloaks and she’d made them extremely realistic wands and Stan was not about to pass up a chance to wear them. 

“We close at seven. I’ll run to the dorm and change and meet you at the U.” Stan said thoughtfully as he ran through the mental clock always ticking in his head. The movie started at eight so he’d have to rush his closing duties and practically sprint across campus to his dorm but he’d still be able to make it in time. 

“What about them?” Beverly gestured subtly over her shoulder at the group in the corner. 

Stan resisted the urge to glare at them. “They’re leaving when we close. It won’t be a problem.” 

**Richie:** here’s the thing tho bev 

**Richie:** im gonna meddle 

It was, in fact, a problem. 

While the screenwriter's club was usually a bit slow to pack up this time, they seemed to sense that Stan had plans (or they had overheard him and decided to be even more of a thorn in his side than usual) and they moved at a snail’s pace. He eventually had to snap at them to leave so he could lock up (it was ten minutes past closing by that point) and judging by the glares he got as they left, he was going to get written up for that too. 

The thought didn’t make his stomach clench up as bad as it used to. With each passing day he was beginning to think more and more about looking for a different part-time job. Let them get him in trouble, maybe if they did, he’d get transferred and he wouldn’t have to deal with them anymore. 

He felt oddly upset by the idea and it took him the entirety of his closing duties to realize that it wasn’t because he would miss the café but because then he wouldn’t have an excuse to see Bill with his bright blue eyes anymore. 

Stan shook the thought from his head as he dashed across campus to his dorm room, nearly tripping over his feet as he stumbled through the door. He changed his shirt into one that didn’t smell like the inside of a bag of coffee and donned his cloak in record time. He tucked his wand into the back pocket of his jeans (sparing a thought that it was good that Mad-Eye Moody wasn’t there to see him) before grabbing his keys and heading out the door. 

“Shit!” Stan cried, as he ran into a solid form outside his dorm. 

“Sorry!” a familiar voice cried and a warm hand gripped his arm to keep him from falling back against the door. 

“No, I’m sorry.” Stan said shaking his head as got his feet under him and untangled his cloak from around his legs. “I’m not used to walking in this.” 

“Are you going to the Harry Potter movie?” Ben asked shyly. Stan didn’t know the boy very well, he lived at the end of the hall and was in the history class that Stan shared with Richie and Bev, but their interaction was limited to hello’s in the hallway and the one time Stan had asked him to borrow his notes because he was sick and missed a class and Richie’s notes, while cohesive, were too hard to decipher with his horrible penmanship. 

“No, I’m trying a new look.” Stan deadpanned before he caught the way Ben’s face closed off at his snarkiness and guilt immediately surged through him. He forgot sometimes that people who didn’t know him weren’t used to his humor and he sounded more like he was insulting people’s intelligence than making a joke. 

“Wanna come with?” he found himself asking, toying with the edge of his cloak as Ben looked at him with wide eyes. 

“I don’t have the proper wardrobe.” Ben said slowly as he gestured at his hoodie and it took Stan a moment to realize that he was making a joke too. What a pair they were. 

“People will be impressed with how good you are with Muggle clothing.” Stan shrugged, unable to help returning the smile that Ben gave him at the statement. 

“Well in that case let’s go!” 

**Richie:** the only question is are you guys with me 

**Eddie:** For Stan’s sake I am. This will go so much worse if you do it alone. 

**Ben:** I’ll help! I’ll always help when love is involved. 

**Mike:** I worry you might regret that statement one day Ben. 

**Mike:** But what the hell? I’m in too. 

**Richie:** whaddya say bev you gonna leave us in the lurch 

**Bev:** fuck. I’ll help. 

**Bev:** but I'm doing this for STAN rich. not for you. 

**Richie:** don’t care youre still helping 

**Eddie:** I’m going to regret asking this, but what’s your plan Richie? 

**Richie:** im so glad you asked eds 

“Sorry I’m late!” Stan announced to Bev and Richie who were playing some kind of hand slapping game as they sat cross legged to the side of the door where the opening credits to the movie were already playing floated out of. 

“Ah I see you’ve brought company!” Richie cried in an elaborate accent that Stan hadn’t heard him do before. He wrinkled his nose at it and silently hoped he wouldn’t try it again. 

“You guys know Ben, right?” Stan asked since Ben was looking shyly at the floor. 

“Course!” Beverly cried smiling at him. Stan watched in amusement as Ben’s cheeks reddened at the attention. “If I’d known you were coming, I’d have got you a cloak too.” 

“Oh!” Ben said in surprise before tugging on the strings of his hoodie. “I’m okay in my muggle clothes.” 

“Enough chitchat!” Richie cried, looping his arms through Beverly’s and Ben’s to tug them after him into the dark room. “Its magic time!” 

Richie was immediately shushed by several people as they entered the room and Stan knew without being able to see it that he was rolling his eyes. As their eyes adjusted to the dark room, they looked around for a place to sit. The movie was being shown by a projector on one of the blank walls of a meeting room. All the tables and chairs had been shoved against the walls leaving people to sit clustered in groups on the floor. Some of them had brought pillows and blankets and were wearing pajamas. One group even had popcorn. 

There wasn’t a lot of empty spaces and Stan was about to suggest they sit near the back wall when an unfamiliar boy suddenly caught sight of them and waved them forward to where he sat in a small clearing near the center of the room. They hesitated for a minute before Ben nudged them in that direction, apparently he had been the one the boy was waving at. They picked their way carefully across the floor much to the groans of their fellow students as they blocked their view of the screen for a moment. 

“Oh, like all of you haven’t already seen this.” Beverly said with an eyeroll that got the groans to stop as they reached the boy and settled into the space around him. He bumped knuckles with Ben as did the two other boys Stan now realized were sitting with him. The room suddenly lit up more as the image on the screen turned to a brighter scene and Stan started a little in surprise as he caught Bill smiling at him shyly from the other side of Ben’s friend. 

It was a bit harder to concentrate on the movie after that. 

**Richie:** i was thinking we lock them in a closet until they confess their feelings 

**Richie:** GET IT??? 

After the movie was over Ben introduced them to the boy who had waved them over, Mike, and his two friends Eddie and Bill. Stan recognized Eddie because he’d come to the café once or twice. He never ordered anything he just came to sit with Bill and the two usually left together. He tried to ignore what that might mean as they all went to get a late-night snack and talk about what Hogwarts house they were in and what their favorite class would have been. 

“I wouldn’t have p-p-pegged you for a c-c-care of magical c-creatures man.” Bill said looking at Stan thoughtfully from where he sat across from him in the booth of the twenty-four hour diner a few blocks from campus. They weren’t the only students in there but they were the only group with people wearing cloaks. 

“I’m a man of hidden depths.” Stan replied, his chest swooping in joy when Bill laughed at his joke immediately instead of having to pause for a second and think over if he was making a joke or not like most people did when they first met him. Stan knew his dry humor could be an acquired taste but it looked like Bill didn’t need as much time to get used to it as others did. 

“I can s-s-s-see that.” 

Stan tugged on the collar of his shirt which suddenly felt much too tight. He knew that it had nothing to do with his clothes and everything to do with the way that Bill was smiling at him. Tentatively Stan dropped his hand back into his lap and smiled back. 

**Eddie:** w o w 

**Mike:** Aren’t they both out? 

**Eddie:** Yes. Why would you want to put them back in somewhere that’s so hard to get out of? 

**Ben:** What closet would you even lock them in? The one in the dorms don’t have doors. 

**Beverly:** you’re approaching this like Richie uses logic Ben. 

**Eddie:** Ha! She’s got you there Richie. 

**Richie:** rude and ruder 

Having seen each other in a different setting than the café it was like a layer of ice that Stan hadn’t even realized was there had broken between him and Bill. They started talking about more than just caffeine or the weather. Sometimes Bill stayed at the counter and chatted with him for a few minutes about school or movies or books, sometimes there was a line behind him and they only had as long as it took Stan to make his drink to talk. Stan took a whole lot longer to make his drinks than anyone else’s but if Bill noticed he didn’t comment on it. 

With this newfound almost friendship Stan found himself even more curious about what it was that Bill was writing. Finally, one night near closing time he actually had a chance to come out behind the counter while Bill was there writing. They were the only two left in the café, Bill wasn’t usually here this late but Eddie hadn’t come to collect him yet. Stan wondered if they were an item but he shook the question from his mind and focused on what he found to be a much more important question. 

Stan wiped down the table behind Bill’s and casually glanced up, from this angle he was able to see the page over Bill’s shoulder but he wasn’t close enough to make out any words. Judging by the format it was definitely a story, maybe even a novel. Stan was so busy wondering over what genre it could be in that it took him a moment to realize that Bill had caught him staring in the reflection of the laptop screen and that his fingers had stopped their furious dance on the keys. 

Blushing slightly Stan straightened, ringing the towel in his hands around his fingers. Well he’d already been caught so what the hell? He might as well satisfy his curiosity fully. 

“What are you writing?” the words that had been burning the back of his throat for ages now were finally out and Stan nearly sagged in relief just to have them out there. He had never wanted to know the answer to a question as badly as he did that one. 

Bill looked over his shoulder in surprise and for a moment Stan was convinced he wasn’t going to answer him but instead Bill looked down at the sleeve of the flannel that he was playing with before admitting, “A horror s-s-story.” 

Stan’s eyebrows rose in surprise, he had spent weeks after all trying to guess what Bill was typing away at. He had to admit horror hadn’t even crossed his mind. 

“Well, it looks like you’re a man of hidden depths too.” Stan remarked after a moment, remembering back to their conversation at the diner. Judging by the small smile Bill gave him at his words he remembered it too. 

“What d-did you t-t-think I was writing?” Bill asked, tilting his head at Stan curiously. 

Stan’s fingers twisted tighter around the rag in his hands as he shrugged, somewhat embarrassed as he admitted, “Depends on what drink you ordered.” 

“What do you mean?” Bill asked curiously. Stan noticed, not for the first time, that his stutter was not always present. 

“I kind of have this chart...” Stan explained as quickly as possible about his system for guessing what people were writing, feeling a bit nervous to be admitting it out loud to someone else. He had just enough time to wonder if Bill would think he was a terrible person for it before Bill was laughing. 

“That’s p-p-pretty accurate for the English d-department.” Bill admitted thoughtfully making Stan’s shoulders relax. He hadn’t realized how much he cared about what Bill thought about him until that moment. 

“Why horror?” Stan asked curiously, leaning slightly against the table next to Bill’s, any thoughts of work long forgotten. 

Bill hesitated for a long moment and Stan began to wonder if he had somehow crossed a line before Bill spoke slowly, his stutter worse than Stan had ever heard it. He barely got some of the words out but Stan was able to piece together the picture. As a child his little brother Georgie was attacked by a lunatic, he’d survived but just barely. The entire experience was incredibly traumatic for both of them. Writing horror was a way for Bill to try to comes to terms with the horror of the real world. 

Stan didn’t really know what to say after he finished telling him his story. What were you supposed to say after learning something like that about your new friend/crush? They didn’t cover stuff like this on after school specials. So Stan settled for saying that first thing that popped into his head. “Can I read it?” 

Bill looked up at him taken back. “It’s not f-f-finished yet.” he said slowly. 

Stan shrugged and ran a frayed piece of the towel between his thumb and index finger. “I’m patient. I can wait.” 

For a moment they exchanged a heavy look and Stan felt like he could feel the actual weight of Bill’s eyes over his entire body. He had a strange thought that maybe they weren’t talking about the story for a second and Bill opened his mouth to say something. The door suddenly opened into the café and the cheerful patter of voices broke through the stillness and the moment. 

**Richie:** fine no closet 

**Richie:** new plan 

**Richie:** we’ll lock them in the coffee shop 

**Ben:** How? Stan is the only one we know with the keys. 

**Richie:** DAMN IT HAYSTACK 

**Richie:** IVE HAD IT WITH YOUR LOGIC 

As the weeks passed and Bill made no more mention of letting Stan read his story he began to wonder if he had just been being nice that night. He noticed it was definitely something Bill was, nice. He’d probably just been being nice about that too. 

March drew to a close and the snow finally started to melt as Stan tried to push the thought of the story from his mind. If Bill didn’t want him to read his work that was his business. Stan could understand wanting to keep things private. He tried to banish the thought of it from his mind but it was hard to do when he saw Bill at the café so often and even harder now that their friend groups seemed to have seamlessly merged together. 

Stan had gone so much of his life with Richie as his only real friend that it was taking him some getting used to to suddenly have six people in his life that he could call friend. It was a good feeling of course, just unusual. He didn’t even have to worry about whether Eddie and Bill were more than friends for very long since he had walked in on Eddie and Richie making out in their dorm room the weekend before spring break. 

It was nice having friends, with each time they hung out Stan felt like he had known these people his entire life. It felt like they were destined to come together, like some outside force had decided they would all be perfect together and gently nudged them in each other’s directions. Stan was spending so much time with the others that after a while he didn’t worry as much over whether or not he had offended Bill by asking to read his story. 

Which was why when Bill came into the café on the Friday afternoon before spring break Stan didn’t think twice about the large binder in his hands. 

“Hey!” Stan perked up immediately at seeing Bill’s face (and honestly, any face. It had been a slow afternoon). “I thought you were headed home today?” 

It was an unnecessary question. Stan knew for a fact that Bill was driving both himself and Eddie back to their small hometown for the week, it was a fact that Richie had been moaning about all week. 

“In a b-b-bit.” Bill shifted awkwardly on his feet before suddenly thrusting the binder at Stan who took it after a startled moment. “Wanted to g-give you this first.” 

Stan rose his eyebrows at him curiously before flipping the cover of the binder open. Inside a stark white page read in simple font, PENNYWISE by Bill Denbrough. 

“You s-s-said you wanted to read it.” Bill said slowly, running a hand through his hair as Stan looked back up at him in surprise. 

“I did. I do.” Stan reassured him quickly. His heart was suddenly pounding in his chest and he thought that it had very little to do with the thought of the heavy horror story in his hands and everything to do with the boy right in front of him. 

“Great.” Bill said shoving his hands in his pockets like he didn’t know what to do with them. Stan was grateful he had the binder to hold on to because he didn’t know either. The weight of the binder was heavy, much heavier than even some of Stan’s textbooks. He had been so wrong to assume Bill was writing a short story. This was a full fucking novel. He was a bit surprised Bill hadn’t just emailed it to him considering how much it must have cost him to print this behemoth out but Stan wasn’t complaining, he kind of liked the feel of it heavy in his hands. 

“Nobody’s read it y-yet.” Bill suddenly admitted, looking back up at Stan with those blue eyes that always made his breath catch in his throat. 

Stan felt a bubble of pride fill in his chest at the thought of Bill trusting him enough to let him be the first person to read his work. “I’m honored.” 

“D-d-do me a favor?” Bill asked quickly, like if he didn’t speak fast he wouldn’t get the words out. “Once you read it, b-b-be honest with me. Don’t hold b-back any p-punches.” 

“Okay.” Stan nodded quickly, he could do that. In fact, now that Bill had said it out loud Stan realized he was grateful he’d said it. He wasn’t very good at being nice just to be nice when people asked his opinion on things. This was the first draft of a story Stan had no expectations for it to be perfect, he was just grateful that Bill didn’t either. 

“I g-gotta go.” Bill sighed as his phone dinged with an incoming text message. He looked at Stan with his bright gaze and smiled shyly. “I’ll see you next week?” 

Stan nodded as he curled the binder against his chest protectively, like he was afraid Bill would suddenly change his mind and try to take it back. “Have a good break.” 

Bill smiled at him and threw him a wave over his shoulder as he left the café. Stan leaned against the counter thoughtfully before flipping the binder open to the cover page, his finger tracing Bill’s name thoughtfully. He felt like he had just been given much more than a story. Stan felt like he had just been given a key into the mind of Bill Denbrough. 

It was a terrifyingly exciting thought. 

**Richie:** stan works tonight ill steal the keys from his coat and lock them in once they’re Alone 

**Eddie:** Richie no. 

**Richie:** you should really check your messages for typos before you send them eds 

**Richie:** pretty sure you meant to say richie YES 

**Mike:** Richie man, no. 

**Richie:** weird you just made the same typo 

**Ben:** I take it back. This is a bad idea. 

**Beverly:** RIP Stan. Sorry we couldn’t save you. 

Stan had to spend that night packing and the next day driving the three hours home while Richie bounced along in the passenger seat to the rock music he had blaring from the speaker in between snapchatting Eddie who was apparently already dying to leave his mother’s house. 

Stan was dying too, he was dying to be able to read Bill’s book but he didn’t want to do it when he was going to be faced with interruptions. As such, it wasn’t until halfway through the break when he finally had a day when he wasn’t expected to help his parents out with anything or go to any function at the synagogue or visit any nearby family member. 

He claimed he had homework and shut himself into his old bedroom, curling up against his headboard with Bill’s book propped open in his lap. 

Stan wasn’t even a quarter of the way into the book before he was overcome with gratitude that he had to have the lights on to read because the story was _petrifying_. 

The title character, Pennywise, was a demonic clown who ate children and Stan could definitely see the influence Bill’s little brother’s attack had on the story. The voice of the story shifted between several main characters and it was all the perfect amount of scary and the slight allusion to the dangers of human nature. Stan found himself jumping in fright more than once and he was very grateful no one was around to see him do it. 

He had to admit the ending wasn’t as good as the rest of the story, it felt rushed and not as thought out. Plus, his favorite character died which Stan knew didn’t make it a bad story it just hurt. Stan was still thinking over what it was he didn’t like about the ending when he flipped to the last page and saw a handwritten note at the bottom. His heart stuttered painfully in his chest at the sight. 

_Call me and let me know what you thought._

Stan chewed on his lip before grabbing his phone off the nightstand beside him and scrolling through to Bill’s number. He pressed the call button before he cast a look at the clock and realized it was well after midnight and Bill was sure to be asleep. 

Cursing Stan moved to hang up the phone but before he could do so Bill’s soft voice filled his ear. 

“Hello?” 

“I woke you up.” Stan sighed, dropping his head into his hands. “Sorry. I just finished your book and I didn’t realize what time it was and-” 

“It’s okay.” Bill said, cutting off Stan’s ramble. There was rustling on the other end of the line. “You didn’t wake me up. Georgie and I were watching _Star Wars_ and he fell asleep.” Stan thought he heard the sound of a door closing and then Bill asked, his voice at a more normal volume now, “What did you think?” 

“I think the inside of your mind must be a terrible place.” Stan answered honestly, relief coursing through him when Bill laughed in response. 

“Yeah, it is.” Bill sighed and Stan wrapped his arms around his legs and suddenly wished that they were having this conversation face to face. He liked seeing the way Bill’s face shifted when he spoke. His expressions were written all over it. Talking to him this way was like only getting half of a conversation. 

“I have to admit, I didn’t care for the ending.” Stan chewed on his lip as he said it, he knew that Bill had told him to be honest but sometimes people didn’t actually mean that when they said it. 

“Okay.” Bill said slowly and Stan suddenly started as he realized Bill wasn’t stuttering. Maybe it was easier for him to talk on the phone than in person. “What was off about it?” 

“It felt rushed and too many things were left unanswered.” Stan admitted glancing at the open binder where it lay at the foot of his bed. “And there were a lot of side plots that never got completed, like I thought Marcus would join the others at some point but he never did. It felt like his story never tied in to the rest which doesn’t make sense because he figured out where the clown was before anyone else did.” 

“Shit.” Bill swore and Stan heard the clack of keys and realized that Bill had put him on speaker phone and was typing up his notes. “You’re right.” 

“And then there’s what happened to Erik...” 

“Oh, that hurt to write.” Bill’s sigh was so deep Stan felt like he felt it in his own lungs. 

“It hurt to read.” Stan admitted which he supposed was a good sign of Bill’s talent. 

They spent hours that way, Stan giving Bill notes and hearing the keys clacking through the phone as he typed them up. Stan felt honored that not only was his opinion being listened to but Bill was actually taking his thoughts seriously enough to look them over. By the time they had rehashed the story dawn was breaking. Stan bit back a yawn as he realized that his room was lightening around him and he looked at the phone with some remorse. 

“I should let you get some sleep.” Stan sighed, dropping his head back against the pillow. He could have spent hours more like this but he knew if he was yawning than Bill had to be too. 

“Huh? I guess it is late.” Bill said, before yawning like the acknowledgement of time made him realize he was tired. “Thanks for all your help Stan.” 

“Thanks for letting me read your story.” Stan suddenly wished his cell phone had a phone chord just so he could thread it between his fingers like girls did in movies where landlines were still a thing. As Bill and him bid each other good night (even though it was well into morning) he suddenly thought he understood a little of what those girls were feeling. 

Was this the butterflies everyone always talked about? 

**Richie:** this is gonna work trust me 

**Beverly:** famous last words. 

**Mike:** Now I’m really scared. 

When they got back to school the last remaining dregs of snow had melted and it was like spring had arrived while they had been gone. It took Stan a few days to get back into the swing of things but somehow his schoolwork seemed so much easier now that the sun was out more. 

Another thing that made life a whole lot more enjoyable was the running text conversation he’d had with Bill since the night (morning?) of the phone call. It was like they couldn’t go even an hour without sending the other one some meme or photo. Stan had even sent him a picture of the black-bellied Plover he’d spotted at the gas station on the drive back to campus and Bill had reacted like it was a great sighting even though the only unusual thing about it was that they were hours from the coast. Still, it was nice to have someone care about his bird watching, even if Bill was just pretending. 

The days were getting longer and brighter and even a little bit warmer too although Stan hadn't really noticed that very much. All it meant for him was that he wore a lighter jacket over his button up cardigan ensemble, his wardrobe didn’t change very much with the seasons. Honestly, Stan probably wouldn’t have noticed the change in the weather at all if Bill hadn’t come into the café in just a t-shirt. 

Stan had never seen him without some kind of sweater or flannel on before and the sight of his surprisingly defined biceps threw him for a bit of a loop. He’d nearly dropped the coffee cup that he’d been passing to a customer when Bill came in the door and the whole time he was waiting in line for the people in front of him to finish up Stan had to remind himself to keep his eyes on the person he was helping and not let his eyes drift over to Bill’s arms. 

“S-s-see any good birds today?” Bill asked curiously when it was his turn to approach the counter. 

Stan shook his head wordlessly, his throat suddenly dry as he forced himself to stare at Bill’s eyes and not let his gaze wander to follow the path of his shoulders. Besides, he hadn’t spotted anything new today anyway. Campus wasn’t exactly a great place to see anything other than sparrows and grackles, if he wanted to spot rare birds he needed to go out to the lake or the woods outside of town. 

Somehow Stan managed to pull himself together enough to ring Bill up and make him his drink (just green tea that day, one day Stan was going to figure out the reasonings behind his different orders) without ogling him too much. He was pretty confident that he had managed to make it through the whole exchange without Bill noticing how badly the sight of him in a t-shirt had shaken him. As he settled at a table in the center of the café, Stan let out a tiny sigh and leaned against the counter in relief before the sound of a throat being cleared caught his attention. 

He looked to the sound curiously, his heart thudding to a painful stop when he caught sight of Richie and Beverly sitting at a table in the corner. They must have come in when Stan was distracted by his long line of customer's and Bill in less layers of clothing than he’d ever seen. 

Bill might not have noticed the affect his arms had on Stan but judging by Beverly’s knowing look and Richie's waggling eyebrows they sure as hell did. 

“Aw fuck.” Stan whispered to himself as Richie tilted his chair back on two legs and looked between him and Bill thoughtfully. This wasn’t going to end well. 

**Eddie:** I dunno if I can do this to them. 

**Ben:** I know it’s for love but maybe we should let them do this on their own? 

**Richie:** i can’t take anymore of this pining haystack 

Stan waited all day for Richie to say something to him about checking out Bill but to his surprised he never even made a slight innuendo. Stan didn’t think the Trashmouth had it in him to keep quiet about something like this for so long so by the time the next day came and he still hadn’t said anything Stan knew that it was only going to be worse when he finally did. 

He tried to block the thought from his mind as he went about his classes for the day and for the most part, he managed not to think about it. He probably could have gone even longer not thinking about it except halfway through his shift his attention was caught by none other than one of the subjects of his worry himself. 

He was wearing a t-shirt again and Stan had to admit to himself it wasn’t any easier to see him in one today than it had been yesterday. He felt a little like he lived in the Victorian times, swooning over the sight of the hollow of Bill’s throat. 

It was a nice sunny day outside and most students were choosing to spend their time outside soaking up some much-needed vitamin D now that winter had let go of her cold clutches. As such, the cafe was empty except for Stan and Bill so there was no one who would know that Stan couldn’t keep his eyes off of him except for Bill himself. Considering Stan had yet to figure out if Bill liked him the same way he figured it wasn’t that great of an idea to be caught staring at him. No need to make him feel uncomfortable after all. He couldn’t help it that Stan thought he was the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen (although if he was being honest, the Bobolink he had seen on their family road trip two summers ago came pretty close). 

Through sheer force of will Stan managed to keep eye contact with Bill while he ordered and not objectify him. This time Bill ordered iced coffee and Stan couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows at that which caused Bill to smile at him crookedly. 

“That’s a new one for you.” Stan remarked as he punched in Bill’s order on the register. 

“It’s g-g-getting warmer.” Bill replied with a shrug, Stan tried and failed to not let his eyes trace the line of Bill’s collarbones through his t-shirt as he did so. He was only human after all. “That opens a whole new b-b-branch of d-drinks.” 

Stan paused counting Bill’s change as he realized that he was right. He had been starting to make colder drinks these past few days. That was going to throw off his whole classification system, he had only been making hot drinks in the winter, he had no idea what kind of ridiculous things he was going to be asked to make iced now. 

“I might have to revise my chart.” he admitted, looking back up at Bill again who grinned in response. 

“You’re g-g-gonna make s-s-s-so many Frappuccinos.” Bill nodded sagely, a laugh bubbling out of him as Stan groaned and dropped his head into his hands on the counter. 

“Take it back.” he mumbled into his hands, causing Bill to laugh again. Stan wished he could pocket that sound and replay it whenever he was having a bad day. He looked back up at Bill through his fingers, not bothering to hide his betrayal from his face. 

Bill grinned at him and shook his head at Stan’s sudden and rare dramatics before drumming his fingers on the edge of the counter. Stan stood up straight at the sound, if he didn’t know better, he would think Bill was nervous. But what could he possibly have to be nervous about? 

“I heard this is a g-g-good time to watch b-birds right now.” Bill said, his words coming out slower than usual like he was determined to not trip over them as they left his mouth. “S-since its s-s-spring.” 

Stan nodded thoughtfully, a bit surprised. He was used to his birdwatching hobby being something people teased him for not something people were actually curious about. “It is. The birds start coming back home now.” 

Slowly Bill nodded like this made perfect sense to him. His blue eyes suddenly locked on Stan’s as he spoke, no trace of his stutter in his words. “Do you want to go birdwatching with me this weekend?” 

Stan blinked in surprise, certain that he had heard him wrong. No one ever offered to go birdwatching with him. Even his father didn’t go with him now that his arthritis had gotten worse. 

“Why?” the word tumbled out of Stan’s lips unbidden and he winced at the way Bill’s face suddenly dropped at the single syllable. He quickly continued speaking simply in an effort to erase that look off of Bill’s face. “I mean, why would you want to do that? Do you even like birds?” 

“I like you.” Bill said, not taking his eyes off of Stan’s. He did not offer any more explanation than those three simple words but Stan supposed he didn’t really need too. 

Stan liked rules, he liked order. He liked it when things fit into places and when questions had one simple right answer. He did not make impulsive decisions and he certainly never did things without thinking over the consequences that might come hand in hand with his actions. 

So, when he reached across the counter to grip the collar of Bill’s glorious t-shirt in his fingers and pull him close enough so that he could catch his mouth against his own, Stan didn’t really know who was more surprised. 

For a moment Stan felt a brief flare of panic that he had misread what Bill meant by liking him but then his hand was cupping the back of Stan’s head, tilting his face just slightly so he had a better angle to kiss him with. Stan’s thoughts were spinning from both Bill’s lips against his and the smell of him filling his senses. All Stan knew in that moment was that a cute boy liked him enough to go watch birds with him and Stan was _kissing_ him. Even with the awkwardness of having a counter between them provided it was easily the best kiss of Stan’s life. 

They pulled apart after what could have been two seconds or ten minutes, Stan had lost all sense of time, for once his mental clock had failed him. Bill was looking at him in shock and Stan blushed as he untangled his hand from the collar of Bill’s shirt, carefully flattening it with his fingers as he looked back up at him. 

“I like you too.” 

**Beverly:** sorry rich but I can’t in good conscious be a part of this. 

*Beverly added Bill and Stan to the chat* 

**Richie:** WTF NO!!!!!!!!! 

Bill was smiling at him with such a force that Stan felt like he needed sunglasses just not be blinded by it but considering that his facial muscles hurt he had a feeling the smile on his face matched Bill’s for wattage. 

Before either of them could say anything both of their phones pinged at the exact same moment. Stan rose his eyebrows at Bill in surprise, it was probably just their group chat that Richie had decided to name ‘the Losers’ and none of them had bothered to change. Stan was more than happy to ignore it as Bill placed his hand on his on the counter but then their phones kept going off, the pings so rapid fire they blended into one another. 

Sighing Stan used his free hand to pull his phone out of his pocket, it figured the one time he forgot to put it on silent at work it had to interrupt something interesting. 

**Richie:** bev i trusted you 

**Beverly:** that sounds like your bad. 

**Mike:** It was nice knowing you Rich. 

**Ben:** We’ll miss you. 

**Eddie:** Speak for yourself. Can I have your leather jacket? 

**Richie:** baby if you want to wear my jacket all you had to do was ask 

**Richie:** you don’t even have to wait for my untimely death 

**Bill:** I’m not sure if I’m flattered or offended. 

**Stan:** Is that seriously a question? 

**Stan:** The phrase you are looking for is ‘creeped the hell out’. 

**Richie:** just trying to help guys 

**Richie:** if I left you to your own devices you’d never get together 

**Bill:** you sure about that Trashmouth? 

**Stan:** We didn’t need your help. 

**Eddie:** wait what? 

**Beverly:** oh my gosh are you guys ????? 

**Ben:** Love always wins! 

**Mike:** Oh thank god, now Richie will stop. 

**Richie:** i never stop 

**Richie:** ill just move on to someone else now 

**Eddie:** like who? 

**Richie:** we talked about this babes 

**Richie:** but thats for later 

**Richie:** for now tell us guys how was the sex 

**Bill:** geez Rich that wasn’t what we meant. 

**Stan:** That’s it. Richie get your affairs in order, I’m going to murder you. 

**Eddie:** You shouldn’t text things like that. 

**Richie:** aw thanks baby 

**Stan:** Control your boyfriend and I wouldn’t have too. 

**Eddie:** no I mean announcing it makes it premediated. 

**Beverly:** ohhhh 

**Mike:** Doesn’t giving him advice like that make you an accessory Eddie? 

**Eddie:** Shit. 

**Richie:** I trusted you eds 

**Beverly:** we should leave before this gets ugly. 

**Ben:** Why don’t we all meet up for coffee? We could study for the history test too. 

**Mike:** am I still invited? 

**Beverly:** always! 

**Stan:** Does it have to be coffee? 

**Bill:** Don’t worry we won’t make you drink it. 

**Stan:** The things I do for you. 

**Richie:** wow day 1 and youre already whipped 

**Stan:** You really want to see how thin this ice is huh Richie? 

**Richie:** wow moody 

**Richie:** ill go fuck myself 

**Bill:** isn’t that Eddie’s job? 

**Beverly:** woah 

**Mike:** Nice one. 

**Eddie:** what did I ever do to you? 

**Ben:** is this a no on the coffee? 

**Stan:** I need better friends. 

**Richie:** they don’t make them any better than us and you know it 

“D-d-do you think the meddling will b-be a thing?” Bill asked curiously, leaning closer against Stan’s side as they walked across the campus to the union to meet up with the others. Bill had stayed while Stan had closed up the café for the night, it had taken a bit longer than it usually took him. Bill was very good at being distracting. 

“I hope not.” Stan shrugged as best as he could with one arm wrapped around Bill’s back. He felt like he hadn’t stopped grinning since that first kiss. Not even their friends over interest in their love life had been enough to knock it off his face. He was a little bit worried his face was going to get stuck on this expression like his parents had always warned him would happen when he gave them a dirty look. “I can’t take any more of that.” 

“Apparently they f-f-felt the s-s-same about us.” Bill stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to smile at Stan who rolled his eyes back at him in response. He only had an inch or so on Stan in height which made it perfectly easy for Stan to close the distance between them to kiss him again. 

He tasted like coffee but Stan didn’t mind the taste so much when it was on Bill’s lips.


End file.
